The Big Win

I won $8.88 million in the lottery. When I went to claim my prize, the presenter handed me a donation form. “Sir, as is customary, winners of large prizes are expected to make a charitable donation. The minimum is five thousand dollars. How much would you like to contribute?” I shook my head. “I’m not donating.” “Sir, this is standard procedure. It’s for a good cause.” Her smile vanished. “You shouldn’t be so selfish. You’ve come into all this money for nothing. What’s wrong with giving a little back?” “I’m not donating. Not a single cent.” “What a cheapskate,” she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. “If you’re not going to donate, then you can just wait for your prize money to be processed.” She confiscated my original lottery ticket and had security throw me out. That night, “The Greediest Lottery Winner in History” trended on social media. I became public enemy number one. “He’s rich and heartless! Let’s find him!” “We should go to his house and livestream, force him to donate!” Angry netizens swarmed towards my home. The next day, the lottery commission respectfully delivered the check to my door.

1. Two security guards grabbed me by the arms, one on each side, and dragged me out of the prize claim center. “Get out of here, you pathetic loser!” I was thrown onto the marble floor, my knees slamming into the hard surface. Behind me, the presenter, a woman named Lisa, sneered. “Look at this trash. Wins a bit of money and forgets who he is.” “Let him go through the official process. The long process. Until he agrees to donate.” I scrambled to my feet and rushed back to the entrance, but the guards blocked my way. “Give me back my ticket!” I screamed at them. “That’s my money! I need it urgently!” Lisa crossed her arms, a smug smile on her face. “Urgent? In a hurry to buy a luxury car or a mansion?” “Mr. Cole, I’ll give you one last chance. Sign the donation form. Five thousand dollars is nothing to you.” Her voice boomed through the hall’s sound system. “I said, I’m not donating,” I repeated, refusing to back down. Lisa’s expression turned cold. “Fine. Very well.” “Have it your way.” “We’ll follow the procedure then. Identity verification, tax processing, financial review… best-case scenario, it’ll take a month. Worst case, half a year.” A month? Half a year? My heart sank into an icy pit. No. I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t even wait a single day. “Please,” I begged, pressing my forehead against the glass door. “Give me the money. I really… I really need it!” “Get lost!” was her only reply. The guards shoved me away again, this time with more force. I stumbled back and fell to the ground. People in the crowd pointed and whispered, their eyes filled with disdain. It was as if I wasn’t a lucky lottery winner, but a despicable thief. I pulled out my five-year-old phone, its screen crisscrossed with cracks. I opened a news app. A bold headline popped up. 【The Greediest Lottery Winner in History is Born! Wins $8.88 Million, Refuses to Donate $5,000 to Charity!】 Below it was a high-resolution photo of me being dragged out of the lottery commission, looking utterly pathetic.

2. I clicked on the article. The comment section was already a warzone. “What the hell! Who is this guy? Does he have a soul?” “$8.88 million! And he won’t even donate five grand? Is he that cheap?” “Does this kind of person even deserve to win? God must be blind!” “He looks like a bum, and he’s rotten on the inside too.” “【Angry emoji】Someone find this guy! Let’s see what this piece of trash is really made of!” I turned off the screen and took a deep breath. My lungs ached as if they were filled with ice. My phone rang. It was my mom. “Joel! You’re on TV! Did you really win the lottery?!” Her voice was filled with unrestrained joy. “Mom, I…” “Eight point eight-eight million dollars! Oh my God! Why didn’t you tell us sooner, son!” “Your brother needs to get married, and his fiancée’s family is asking for a thirty-thousand-dollar dowry. I was so worried! This money came at the perfect time!” Before I could say anything, she had already planned everything out. “And your uncle needs fifty thousand for his new house, and your cousin needs ten thousand for college, and…” “Mom,” I interrupted, my voice hoarse. “I need this money for something else.” The line went silent. A few seconds later, my mom’s tone changed. “Joel! What are you trying to say?” “Mom, I’m not giving this money to anyone.” Her anger flared. “You think you’re so big now, don’t you? You win a little money and forget your own family?” “I raised you for nothing! You won’t even share your winnings with us? You’re going to be cursed!” She started screaming at me, her words more vicious than any of the online comments. I quietly hung up and switched my phone to silent. The world was quiet again. But my heart was in turmoil. I leaned against the cold wall and pulled a faded photograph from my pocket. In the picture, a group of young men stood with their arms around each other, their faces beaming with joy. The one in the center was me. Back when I still had two legs. I gently traced the faces in the photo with my thumb. I whispered their names, a silent prayer. “Wait for me. I’m almost there.” My phone screen lit up again. A text from an unknown number. 【Joel Cole, right? We have your address. Apartment 401, 3rd building, XX complex.】 【So you won’t donate, huh? We’re coming to deliver some justice.】 【We’re going live. The whole country is going to see your ugly, greedy face!】 My pupils constricted. They had found my home. I clutched my phone tightly. No. I couldn’t let them go there. I wasn’t the only one living in that apartment. I staggered to my feet and ran towards the subway station, a single thought pounding in my head. Go back. I had to get back before they did.

3. I burst out of the subway station and ran like a madman towards home. The walk that usually took ten minutes, I covered in five. A crowd had already gathered at the foot of my old apartment building. A group of flashy-looking young people were delivering a righteous speech to their phone cameras. “We’re here, everyone! This is the cheapskate’s nest!” “Today, on behalf of all the good-hearted people out there, we’re going to bring this immoral bastard to justice!” The livestream chat was scrolling wildly, filled with messages of “support,” “go for it,” and “get him.” I pushed through the crowd, trying to get to the stairs. “He’s back! That’s him!” someone shouted. Dozens of phone cameras swiveled to face me. “You have the nerve to show your face?” “Donate the money! Or you’re not going anywhere!” “Get him! People like him deserve a beating!” A man lunged forward and grabbed me by the collar. His face was contorted with righteous fury. I didn’t fight back. I just looked at him and said, word by word: “Let me go upstairs.” “Go to hell! You’re not going anywhere until you donate that money!” He punched me in the face. “This one’s for the children in the mountains!” Another punch landed on my shoulder. “This one’s for the lonely elderly!” I didn’t dodge or retaliate. I just wanted to go upstairs. There was something up there that I had to protect. In the chaos, people started pushing and pulling at me. I swayed in the crowd like a lone boat in a storm. “Don’t let him get away!” “Let’s go to his apartment! Let’s expose what he’s hiding!” They were jealous. Why did I win the lottery, and not them? Why didn’t I just donate the money and live a quiet, subservient life? My refusal to donate was the perfect excuse for their jealousy to masquerade as justice. The crowd went wild. They pushed me along, forcing their way up the stairs. The stairwell echoed with their excited shouts and my ragged breaths. I pressed my body against the door of apartment 401, holding it shut with all my might. “Get out!” I roared. BANG! Someone kicked the door. The old wooden door groaned in protest. BANG! BANG! Again and again. Each impact felt like a kick to my heart. BANG! One final, deafening crash. The door burst open. The crowd surged in like a tidal wave. I was knocked to the ground.

4. My small, dilapidated apartment was instantly packed. Phone lights flashed in my face, accompanied by a torrent of insults. “Holy shit! He’s rich but lives in this dump?” “This place is a garbage heap. Are we sure we have the right address?” “The address is right. He’s probably just pretending to be poor! He must have hidden all the valuable stuff!” “Search the place! Search it carefully! Find it and expose him!” The leader of the group, a streamer with bleached blond hair, kicked over a nearby cardboard box. Instant noodle containers rolled across the floor. “Look at this, everyone! This is the genius of a millionaire. Rents a crappy apartment to pretend he’s poor so he doesn’t have to donate, and he can avoid friends and relatives asking for money. Smart!” The livestream chat erupted in laughter. They were like a band of robbers, ransacking my home. My clothes, my books, everything I owned was thrown to the floor. I tried to get up, but someone pinned me down. “Stay put!” I lay on the floor, my cheek pressed against the cold concrete. Humiliation and rage churned in my chest. But I couldn’t fight back. If I did, things would only get worse. I just needed them to leave. “Hey? What’s this?” Someone with sharp eyes pulled a locked wooden box from under my bed. “Found it! The good stuff must be in here!” They all got excited, like they’d discovered a treasure chest. They surrounded the box, kicking it, trying to pry it open with a crowbar. “No!” I screamed. “Don’t touch that box!” I lunged forward, shielding the box with my body. “Get away! All of you, get away!” “He’s panicking! He’s panicking!” The blond streamer laughed even more maniacally. He ordered two of his cronies to grab me. “Pull him away!” Two large men grabbed my arms and dragged me back. My fingernails scraped bloody lines on the wooden box. “Let me go!” I struggled with all my might, my legs kicking against the floor. In the chaotic struggle, I suddenly felt my right leg go light. I lost my balance and fell to the side. Clunk. It wasn’t the sound of flesh and bone. In the noisy room, the sound was unnaturally clear. Everyone froze. The livestream chat, which had been scrolling frantically, paused for a moment. All eyes were on my empty right pant leg. And on the object that had fallen to the floor beside it… my prosthetic leg.